It’s when thinking about it makes your heart skip. And that could last for days, depending. Your heart like droops down two inches inside into some deep dark space you forgot existed.
That shit will have you texting him first or telling him in the middle of the day that I’m thinking about your dick. It can make all the shit I’ve ever talked about men away. Come over. Smoke me out. Call me. Whatever.
I mean, this is what I mean when I can say to people that I love men. I always have. I don’t want to talk shit. And I never planned to use men as muses. That’s just what comes out when my fingers hit the keys. And it’s been like that since I ever wrote one personal thing ever. They’re a fun topic. They’re just so appealing and yet so revolting.